Once More, With Feeling
by m r s . w r i t i n g
Summary: [Connor/OC/Murphy. M for Smut & language.] Avery has become bedazzled by the Twins. But they bring just as much complication into her life as love. Stalkers, vigilantism, sex, and eventually some babies. [Takes place throughout BDS 1&2,&after.]
1. House Guests

_Author's Note: Th__ese entries are going to be long, ranging from 5,000 to 10,000 words. They are broken up accordingly, so you might want to read, and then come back to some of it if you feel inclined. This is my first Boondock Saints fan fiction, and I've got a lot planned for this story. Please, leave some constructive criticism in the reviews or even just some encouragement. Everything is always appreciated and taken very seriously. Thank you for anyone taking the time to read this, and have a good night._

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><p>House Guests<p>

A coworker was supposed to meet me at McGinty's for drinks, but he had yet to make his appearance. We were going to talk about the possibility of expanding my advice column at work, and as excited as I was to discuss that, I didn't think he was going to show. It was okay, because gazing about the bar, I noticed a very familiar, raven haired beauty tucked away in a booth, with a text book and a half a beer. Lauren was the only medical student I'd ever met who studied in a bar.

A smile splaying on my lips, I turned around, brushing shoulders with one of the handsome Irishmen who always seemed to be at McGinty's, lost in a fit of banter and drunken comradery. I held out my credit card to Doc. "You see that pretty girl over there?" I pointed at Lauren's booth, causing a few of the men who overheard my comment, including the two Irishmen, to glance over their shoulders at Lauren. "Will you send her a new beer? And charge whatever she drinks for the rest of the night to my card, please?"

I heard a few chuckles, of course directed at me. The idea of two women being together was so perverted and sexualized by straight men, but I'd gotten so used to it by now.

"Sure Avery," sputtered Doc. "Not a-a-a-a problem." It was followed by one of his usual, beautiful indiscretions. "_Fuck. Ass!" _

"And a jack and coke for me, please?" I added with an appreciative smile. I turned away from the bar and made my way over to Lauren.

Typically, I don't return to one night stands, but there was a type of innocence about Lauren, and her newly discovered attraction to women that just made her desirable. I loved the idea of being one of her first sexual encounters with another woman, because I knew from personal experience how important mine had been to me.

Sexuality is a fragile, decadent thing. Your first experiences carry with you into the rest of your life, and it changes you. I myself had a very particular sexual identification. I went with what I felt, as long as all parties were consenting, and normally, I don't limit myself to one sexual partner. Very few times in my life have I only had one significant other or partner.

I slid into the bench across from her, forcing her to pull her attention away from her text book in surprise. Excitement lingering in her tone, "Avery, what are you doing here?"

The waitress arrived with our drinks, placing Lauren's unexpected beer in front of her, and my Jack and coke in front of me.

"I was supposed to meet a coworker," I shrugged. "He didn't show, but I saw that you were here and decided I'd join you." I wore my most charming smile. "That is, if you're not busy."

"Oh, no!" Her textbook was slammed closed and pushed aside, nestling the beer I'd ordered in between her feminine, manicured fingers.

The waitress, who'd yet to depart, bent down to an eye level with me. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Avery, but I'm supposed to let you know that the gentlemen over by the bar," – she pointed to the two handsome Irishmen I'd bumped shoulders with earlier – "they insisted on paying for your drinks."

My eyes fell on the two. They were involved in a loud conversation with their surrounding friends, their roaring laughter shaking the air, unaware of my observation. I forced a polite smile for the girl's sake. "Thank you, Abbey."

As soon as Abbey was out of ear shot, Lauren glanced over her shoulder to catch a look at the boys. "They're cute, aren't they?" she said mischievously.

I twirled my small, red straw around the ice of my drink. "Oh, you're just trying to make me jealous," I teased.

A shade of red rose to her cheeks.

She was right, though. They were quite handsome, both of exceptional build, identical heights, slightly different aesthetic features, and there was a similarity about them that couldn't quite be placed. And apparently, they felt compelled to pay for our drinks.

As I sat back in the booth, watching them from across the bar, it was almost as if one felt my eyes on the back of his head. Pausing in his conversation, the less rowdy of the two looked at me. As our eyes met, the corner of his mouth lifted, and he lifted up his drink to me. Politely smiling back, I lifted mine.

There weren't that many people at McGinty's. There were four men at the bar, myself and Lauren, the bartender and the waitress of course, and a couple of old men tucked away in the far corner. The gentleman stationed at the bar were producing most of the noise, but even as their happy sounds filled the air, the mood still changed as soon as two more men entered the bar.

At first, it was Lauren's eyes growing wide at the sight of something behind me that caught my attention. I glanced over my shoulder to see two large, menacing looking individuals. They looked like they woke up every morning with the intentions of causing trouble. It was the way they sauntered in, both of them adorning three piece suits and the looks in their eyes. One even sported a pair of sleek, black leather gloves, which was ominous all on its own. You wear gloves to hide fingerprints – creepy. Their entry even warranted the cease in conversation of the table in the far corner, the old people watching warily as the two thuggish looking men approached the bar.

I'd come to accept that every great city had a mob problem. Boston was no exception. Recently, the crime rates had doubled; leaving the police forced over worked and under budgeted. This only made it easier for criminals to commit and get away with their crimes. Over the past few weeks, Doc had been harassed by members of the Russian mob. Rumor had it, if my journalist friends heard right, was that they'd be buying up properties in this area soon. By the looks of those two big shots by the bar, I assume Doc didn't have long.

One of the Irishmen tapped the other on the shoulder, drawing his attention to the two thugs, soon after their friends catching on as well, their banter dying. Our four men at the bar quieted, all was still.

I've seen my fair share of bar fights. Sometimes they're nasty, and sometimes, they're just stupid. This one started off as stupid, and turned nasty really quick. At first I'd ignored the men entirely, turning around to my drink, minding my own business, and attempted to start idle chat with Lauren. Before long, I'd had the situation tuned out until the thugs were shouting and throwing around threats.

And, I realize that there were four men at the bar, and only two thugs. Truthfully, they were outnumbered. However, the thugs' size compensated for their lack of quantity. One was just under six feet tall, average height, but he was a chunky fellow. Chunky is a polite way of saying _fucking fat._ Unlike the first one, Fatty Mc Fat-Fat, the second thug reached nearly seven feet and was rather muscular and bulky.

I almost thought that those two Irishmen deserved getting the shit beat out of them, when they interrupted the thugs' speech with a quick chug of their beers and started throwing punches. They'd been asking for trouble. I'm quite keen on keeping out of dangerous situations, myself, that and things pertaining to none of my business, but I just can't watch two giants pummel four average sized men, ranging from tipsy to belligerent.

The few elderly gentleman in the corner got up from their table as soon as the rumble broke out, all waddling hastily for the door. There were sounds of battle cries from drunken men, and a few death threats floating about the air through the cacophony of punches and breaking furniture.

Lauren tensed completely, pinning her back against the wall inside the booth. Barely breathing, appearing similarly to a deer in the head lights. "Oh my God, should we call the police?"

So I can get murdered for being a rat? I don't think so.

I was probably as terrified as Lauren was, but Lauren and I had about a six year age difference. I was positive I'd seen more violence than her and our ideas of handling this situation were on different scales.

At the shatter of glass, one of the Irishmen was down for the count, completely unconscious. The fat man, having broken a glass beer bottle over the Irishman's head, then turned his attention to a long-haired, bearded fellow. The tall thug had both the second Irishman and the fourth bar customer pinned up against the wall by the throats. It looked as though our boys had bitten off more than they could chew.

I couldn't just sit by and watch these guys get the total shit beat out of them and – by the looks of the knocked out Irishman – possibly killed. So, as scared shitless I was to call the police, I figured, as a medium sized woman in heels (hadn't even gotten time to change after work before opening a can of whoop-ass) I surveyed my options around the bar, and went for the best bet.

The polished wooden bar stool felt smooth underneath my fingers as I ignored Lauren's pleas to stay out of this, lifted the stool over my head, and with all of the strength I could muster, smashed it over the back of the taller man's head. I was surprised at just how quickly he went tumbling down, taking his victims with him.

I didn't want to give any time for the other thug to react, so as soon as I registered that the first was down, I turned around, grabbed a second stool, and broke it over the other's back. He went down with a little bit more struggle, only taking a few more seconds to black out than his friend over there.

My heart was racing as both men were on the ground, face down, and blacked out. I asked myself what in the actual fuck was wrong with me. I had just knocked out two members of a mob, people who don't think twice about murdering a cow for not being a chicken, after interrupting a damn bar fight? I should have just let those two Irishmen get the shit beat out of them, but I supposed they were cute, and I'd cut them a break today.

"Holy fuck!" exclaimed the long-haired, bearded man, now collapsed onto the ground, whose ass I'd just saved.

I ignored him, turning my attention to the remaining, conscious Irishman. "What the fuck was that?"

"Aye," he beamed from ear to ear, "'at was pretty good." He peered down at the giant at his feet, giving him a nudge with his boot. "Ye knocked 'em out cold. These fuckers won't be causin' anyone any trouble anytime soon."

"Avery!" Turning around, I saw Lauren kneeling over the knocked out Irishmen. I, and his friend, both came to his side.

"Fuck, Con…" hissed the first man.

"What's his name?" asked Lauren, inspecting his forehead.

"Connor."

"Connor?" she called his name, trying to rouse him. "Can you hear me?" Checking his pulse, she looked up and said, "He's gonna be okay. I think he's just knocked out. There's a piece of glass stuck in the skin, but that should be no problem to get out." Her eyes fell on me. "Should we take him to a doctor?"

"I don't know. You're the med student."

In her eyes, I could see her mentally flip through all of her options. Finally, she looked up at the second Irishman. "Who are you? Friend, lover, brother?"

"Brudder," he replied. "If it's just a piece of glass, then we ain't gonna worry about a doctor."

Lauren cocked a brow, obviously disagreeing with him. She, of course, was going to insist on medical treatment, but we probably couldn't do that for the same reason I didn't call the police.

"What's your name?" I asked him, attempting to mediate as Lauren tended to Connor.

"Murphy."

I was captain of the debate team growing up, and in college I'd started a nonprofit charity. I'd been told that I was a control freak, but I'd like to consider myself a leader. Also, I have a natural talent of barking off orders and people just tend to listen. "Nice to meet you Murphy," I began cordially. "This is Lauren, here, who's tending to your brother. She's a med student. She's pretty good with blood and such. My name is Avery." I held out a quick hand for him to take, but had already turned my attention to Doc. "Doc," I called over Murphy's shoulder, "put the two stools on my credit card, please." And finally, I looked to the potty mouthed hippie. "Your name?"

"Rocco?" he answered in a question, as if he wasn't sure.

"Alright, we need to get him some place where he can rest until he wakes up. Doc, is there a couch or something in the back?"

We were led into a back room, where Rocco and Murphy placed Connor onto a pool table. It wasn't a couch or a bed, but it would do.

"Murphy, are you _sure_ you don't want to take him to a doctor?" I asked for a final time, pulling off my blazer to bundle up underneath Connor's head.

He shot me a crooked smile. I melted a little. (Only a little.) "It would take me brother jumpin' off a buildin' to get away with takin' him to a hospital."

Abbey brought in two mugs of coffee, handing one to each of us. "Brother?" I repeated.

His smile broadened. "Twins."

So that was the similarity I couldn't quite place. "Apparently not identical, but still very cool."

Laruen stood from beside Connor, where she'd been attempting to remove the small shard of glass in his forehead. "It shouldn't need stitches," she said, looking at me, not Murphy. "They just need to keep it clean and bandaged, and it should be good." She gave me an apologetic expression. "I do have exams this week, so I really need to get home and study."

I smiled. "That's fine. You were a big help here."

She shrugged. "What's the degree worth if I don't use it, right?" I walked Lauren to the door of the back room and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Will you call me?"

I hated that line, but she'd been a good sport tonight. I muffled the rising groan. "Of course."

"Okay. I'll see you later." And after a chaste kiss on the lips, she left.

Standing beside a still unconscious Connor, Murphy shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning against the table. "Girlfriend?"

"I don't do girlfriends," I said wryly, making my way over to the table with the first-aid kit Doc had provided us.

"So ye'r not into girls, then?"

Opening up the kit, I pulled out a piece of gauze and medical tape. "I am into girls, but I don't see how that's any of your business." Men sexualizing my bisexuality wasn't really on my to-do list for today.

He held up his hands in defense. "Just tryin' to make conversation."

"With overly personal questions." I began to bandage Connor's cut.

After Connor's bandage was finished, I began to pack up the kit when Rocco tucked his head in the room. "Murph?"

"Yeah?"

"Mike and I are gonna go take care of those assholes. Doc don't want people lookin' in the window freakin' out or nothin'."

My mind immediately derailed at the sound of Rocco's words. There were mobsters, thugs, passed out on the floor of McGinty's and _I _was the one who put them there. These were men paid to kill, who worked for guys that were _so_ completely out of my league it was ridiculous. My father, chief of police back home, always warned me about gangs and organized crime, how to stay away from anyone who had anything to do with it. And how those situations just snuck up on you. Daddy was right, because tonight completely snuck up on me.

My rising levels of anxiety drowning out Murphy and Rocco's words, there was an aching pain in the background. After taking a minute of coming back to reality, landing my far off wandering brain ship back to Earth, I realized the pain was pulsating from my feet in these fucking shoes. I had no mental energy for this shit, so I peeled them off, and threw them to the ground with a loud _clack!_

I fell into the nearest chair by one of the spray painted windows, hissing to myself, "_Fuck._" The anxiety must have been noticeable, because it pulled Rocco and Murphy out of their conversation.

"Everythin' all right over there?" called Murphy.

With an exasperated sigh, my eyes closed, and my head fell back. "I can't believe I just fucking did that," I said, only slightly louder than a whisper, more to myself than to the boys.

"It'll be okay." Rocco took a few steps toward me. "I work around these douche bags all the time. They just got hot tempers is all." He waved it off with a hand gesture.

"Plus, they didn't even see yer face." Murphy attempted a comforting smile, but it came out as a smirk. It was kind of cute and aided a distracted. "You just came up behind 'em, and _wham._ Which was very impressive by the way." He gave a courteous nod.

"Don't worry about it." Rocco left the room, calling over his shoulder, "I'mma go handle these fuck faces."

Rocco pulled the door closed behind him, and Murphy leaned himself against the pool table, next to his brother.

"Lauren said he should wake up soon," I said, trying to distract myself from my inner most negative thoughts.

"Aye, he'll be fine. He's gotten worse than a tiny little bottle to his head." There was a moment of silence between us, mostly because I was drowning in worry, but eventually his easy going tone dropped, and he sounded very solemn. "Thanks, by the way."

I was a thousand miles away, now that my feet weren't aching to anchor me home. I caught the last words, my selective hearing betraying me yet again. "What?"

"I said thanks, for yer help back there."

Glancing at my watch, I noticed how late it was. My coworker never did show, but that might have been a good thing for him. I wasn't worried about expanding my advice column anymore, now that I'd convinced myself that I was wanted by the mob (which was _such_ an exaggeration of the realistic situation). "Damn, I need to get home." I stood from the chair, and gathered my shoes that had been laying at Murphy's feet.

I straightened up, shoes in hand, and motioned for Murphy to stop as he went to retrieve my blazer jacket from underneath Connor's head. "Don't worry about it. I've got a thousand others just like it."

Murphy towered over me, a good five or six inches (I'm a midget compared to average sized men). By the seriousness in his eyes and his calm exterior, I believed that he really was thankful. Growing up an only child, I never got to experience the bond of sisterhood or having a brother, but I still respected the concept. They were brothers, _twins_ no less. One of them could have been seriously hurt today, more so than a stupid broken beer bottle to the head. I could never relate to what that's like, to spend your entire life with somebody like that, and have that type of bond, and be put in a situation where you might lose them.

Even though I was probably going to be murdered in my sleep by a vengeful Russian mob member (still exaggerating), I was glad I'd stepped in. I'm glad I helped. I would have hated myself had anything happened to anybody tonight.

We were only inches away from one another, and I probably looked like a crazy person just staring up at him, speechless to really say anything productive. My mind was distracted by intrigue and wonderment, intrigued by twins, wondering what it is Murphy must be going through. He seemed easy going enough.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, and lifted myself up to place a kiss on his cheek. "I hope your brother feels better." I forced a smile, and made way for the door. "Catch you later."

* * *

><p>I wanted to tell Ben, the asshole who stood me up for drinks last night, how lucky he was for not showing up, but I work for a Woman's magazine, and you just don't tell things to people in my office that should be kept secret. I'd hate for him to mention it to a journalist or something and then advertise to every thug on the street how a tiny little woman's relationship advice columnist like me took down two big, bad wolves. We will be handing out little red hoods over <em>there. <em>And after, will be hearing an instructional by the Huntsman on how to cut yourself out of a wolf's belly.

Since I couldn't bitch at Ben about it, and Daddy, my very serious Police Chief of a father, only scolded me for intervening in the first place (Funny coming from a hero, right?), that left Lauren. She was more than willing to "console" me, _console_ being her word. At the time, I think I realized that she was getting clingy (only girlfriend-clingy, not stalker-clingy, but it still sucked because we weren't girlfriends), but I didn't want to vent to her and then tell her to buzz off. That would have been rude. I probably shouldn't have slept with her, either. That tends to send mixed signals.

I decided I needed to sit her down and explain to her where I was, and how my dating life works. She was getting dressed, about to head home to get ready for a class, and right as I was about to open the portal to this _fun_ conversation, there was a knock at the door.

"Are you expecting anyone?" she asked, buttoning her shirt.

Clad in pajamas and completely unashamed, I answered the door, mentally taking note to have a peep hole installed. To my surprise, Murphy stood outside my door, with my blazer jacket in hand, accompanied by a very conscious and grinning Connor. I didn't do a very good job hiding how unexpected this was on my face.

"Aye!" exclaimed Connor with a smile. "You must be Avery!" Lauren watching from within the apartment, Connor took a step forward without invitation, and brought me into an embrace. Even though he was a total stranger, I couldn't help but enjoy his scent of cigarettes and black coffee, so I let the random hug thing go. "You saved our ass, lass!"

The benefit of the doubt only went so far, and I was going to narrow my eyes and lecture him on how I hated being referred to as _girl. A_utomatically _lass_ registered as just that, but he caught sight of Lauren behind me, and granted himself entry into my apartment to harass her with hugs, too.

"Oh, how unexpected." Lauren gave Connor a reluctant pat on the back.

I cocked a brow at Murphy, waiting for an explanation. He gave me a goofy grin and granted himself access to my home, as well. "Thought we'd come and return yer coat to ye." He lifted up the black blazer to me, and then threw it over the back of one of the stools at the kitchen bar.

Closing the door behind me, I stepped out of the entry way, where Lauren tip toed behind me. "How do you know where I live?" I folded my arms defensively.

Connor stuck a hand in his back pocket and handed me a tiny blue piece of plastic. "You forgot your credit card over at McGinty's."

I rolled my eyes, not necessarily at the boys or that I forgot the card, but that it took me this long to even notice it was missing. "Of course I did," I muttered, throwing it onto the bar, next to my coat, dismissively. "But it's not like you can look on the back of it for an address."

Murphy then turned away from me, his eyes falling on Connor suggestively. Connor shrugged. "Well, we had to get yer card back to ye, lass." My teeth clenched. "And we had to give ye our thanks, too. So, I had no choice but to look at yer contact information over at the bar, so we could return yer items to ye, and thank ye properly."

I had planned on discussing the ethics of going through confidential files, how inappropriate it was to just go through someone's papers and show up at a woman's house uninvited, especially considering the events having gone down. Something else came out, instead. "Avery."

His brow furrowed. He already knew my name. "What?"

"Please," I said, with a long, controlled exhale. "Call me Avery. Not _girl, _not _lass, woman, _or anything of the like."

Connor and Murphy gave each other an amused look, and Lauren could see that they were taken a bit off guard by my request and jumped in to prevent any awkwardness. "Well, I need to go get ready for class!" she beamed, grabbing her coat from off the back of the couch. "I'll call you later, okay?"

Inwardly I groaned. I was really looking forward to talking about the whole "girlfriend thing," but with two handsome, unexpected Irishmen standing in my living room, I decided it could wait a bit. I saw her out, trying my best not to seem to into the intimate arm touches or lingering kisses. _This is going to suck, later._

The door closing behind her, I furrowed my brows at an unexpected parcel sitting on my bar, next to the coat and credit card. "What's that?" I asked.

With a wide smile, Connor heaved it up into his arms and brought it to me, tipping it over slightly so that I could see its contents. It was a case of beer. "A token of our appreciation."

I couldn't suppress the chuckle that came rising out of my chest. Shaking my head with a smile, I made way around the bar and into the kitchen, grabbing two frosted mugs from the freezer I keep for guests. "I'm not that much of a beer drinker," I said, handing each of them a mug. What was I supposed to do, kick them out? "I, myself," I reached into the liquor cabinet of my kitchen, "am a vodka kind of girl."

"Good God." Connor held the mug up and eyed it like it was a rare diamond. "Who keeps mugs in the freezer at all times just to pull 'em out whenever a couple of Irishmen show up at the door unexpected?"

Murphy held up a bottle of beer at me from across the bar, and began pouring. "A bloody saint, that's who."

"Amen to that."

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><p>I realize that I'd only met these men a day ago, and I practically knew nothing about them. However, when I'd poured vodka into my lemon-lime soda, I might have overestimated my ball-park measurement. Around drink two, my judgment started to slip, which is how drink three happened. So, an hour and a half later, the boys were sitting in my living room, beer bottles littering the coffee table, and I was making my way from the kitchen with shot glasses in my hand. Lost inside of a drunken haze, our laughter filled the apartment.<p>

"So, you have no idea who was born first?" I sputtered, the shot glasses clinking onto the glass coffee table. I nestled myself onto the ivory, shag carpet, crossing my legs, and began to distribute shots.

"Our Mother's never told us," Connor whined.

"Nobody else would know? A grandma or an aunt or something?"

They shook their heads in unison. "No one's ever had the decency to tell us."

"Avery, who do you think is the oldest?" Murphy inquired before knocking back his shot.

I emitted a very drunk giggle. "How the fuck am I supposed to know?"

Connor had an amused smile. "I dunno, who seems more…" he searched for the words, struggling in his stupor, "_mature?"_

My eyes shot back and forth between the two, and they waited with grins for me to give my answer. I erupted into giggles again. "You both seem pretty immature to me, to be completely honest."

Murphy didn't seem affected by the comment, but Connor's jaw dropped and his brows furrowed. "We happen to be quite gathered individuals." I couldn't tell if he was actually angry or just feigning. "….When the time calls for it."

"Oh, like chugging beers and starting bar fights?" I said with a cocked brow.

"Aye!" defended Murphy. "Those cock suckers deserved it!"

"Hey!" I pointed an accusatory finger, attempting to be serious, but the giggles just took over. "That's an insult to cock suckers!"

Interrupting our fit of rabid laughter, the phone rang. I managed to (drunkenly) ninja my way across the couch, grabbing the phone off the end table, and lazily shushed the boys.

"Hello?" I hadn't even bothered looking at caller ID.

"Avery! It's Jeremy!"

The boys were quiet, surprisingly, watching me from the other couch on the other side of the coffee table.

"Hey, Jeremy," I said, taking a sip from my fourth drink. "How're you doing?" I managed to stifle the booze from talking. I was trying to sound as cordial as possible, also attempting to hide my annoyance at the random phone call, considering it was eight o'clock at night and I had guests over.

"I was wondering if you wanted to try that new Mongolian place. It's Vegan friendly." Jeremy was a gentleman I'd been seeing, who had an interest in independent films and saw organization as a lifestyle necessity. We'd only gone on two dates. I thought he was okay, and as far as I could see, he and I would only remain casual. As much as I enjoyed our first two dates, because he was an enjoyable person to be around, right now, sitting across from two exceedingly hot men with accents, it didn't sound too appealing.

But I knew that was mostly the alcohol talking, as far as not finding Jeremy superbly interesting. And I was flattered to know that he remembered my dietary preferences. "Sure," I said, almost in a sigh, my head falling back onto the couch. I knew that the boys could probably read my body language, but I wasn't paying attention. Thanks, Vodka.

"How does Tuesday sound?"

"I think I might have a meeting that day, let me check." I didn't get up. I remained seated, staring up at the ceiling, the phone plastered to my ear, and gave a pause. "Hold on, opening up the planner." I could hear Murphy's muffled chuckles. "Oh, look, I actually don't have an appointment that day. What time?"

"My lunch starts at eleven. How about yours?"

"I can do noon?"

"So, can I. I'll e-mail you the address."

"Awesome, I'm writing the time down now." Liar.

"I'll see you Tuesday."

"See you, then." Setting the phone onto the glass end table and lifting my head up, I saw two very amused smiles on the boys' faces. The table was completely littered in alcohol paraphernalia, and it dawned on me that drunken me wouldn't remember that time, place, or even with who. "I should probably actually write that last part down, shouldn't I?" I padded my way over to the kitchen, rummaging through drawers for a note pad.

"What was that?" inquired Murphy, pouring himself another shot (fifth, sixth?)

A smile of embarrassment grew on my lips. "Jeremy is kind of a neat freak. He insists I write _everything_ down. He's under the impression I have a planner." I finally found a notepad and pen, and set the tip to paper to write, but as soon as I needed information to flow out, nothing came. _Fuck. I already forgot._ "What was that time?"

"One o'clock," called Connor from the living room.

At the bar, Murphy shot Connor a disapproving stare, shaking his head. "Noon."

"Thank you," I nodded at Murphy, and said to Connor, "You're gonna be a shitty friend, Connor, if you just leave friends out to dry." I wrote down my reminder, and Murphy accompanied me back into the living area, this time sitting onto the couch next to me. I let out an exasperate sigh. "I'm not ready to go on date three with Jeremy. _Fuck." _

"Moving too fast for ye?" Connor spoke into his drink.

"No, I just haven't had the talk yet."

"Talk?" Murphy cocked a brow.

Oh, this conversation was always fun. "Look, guys, we're all obviously full of alcohol. I wouldn't call us drunk," – I motioned toward the coffee table – "but I would definitely refer to us as judgmentally impaired, so I'm going to just throw it out there."

"Well, we do know that yer not a lesbian, now. Otherwise ye wouldn't be schedulin' dates with lads named Jeremy."

"_Unless_," interjected Connor, "yer datin' very manly women named Jeremy."

"No, no," I giggled. "Not a lesbian. I just like to…" I searched for the proper words, "go with the flow, you know?"

"Hm, '_go with the flow'_. Never heard it quite like 'at before, huh, Murph?"

Murphy shook his head in agreement. "So whatever jus' happens, happens then?"

I shrugged. "Kind of… I do have moral boundaries, but my biggest thing is that I don't believe in a monogamous lifestyle."

With a goofy grin, Connor stood from the couch, and leaned over the table, giving my forehead a gentle rub. "Where's yer horn, there, girl? Are you sure yer not a unicorn?"

Not catching the _girl_ due to my alcohol levels, I was slightly flattered at the comment, and dramatically batted my eye lashes. "No, but I'm close. Seriously, I just don't believe in limiting love. You should like…expand on it, you know what I mean?"

Murphy applauded gently as Connor raised his drink. "Very well said."

"Well, you guys received that well enough," I scoffed. "People _freak out_ when I tell them that I'm not willing to date only one person. It's almost audacious, you know?"

"You always been that way? Open or whatever they call it?"

"Some say open," I informed. "Some say polyamorous. It depends on your situation and preference. But I've never identified as monogamous."

"So you've always had more than one boyfriend?"

"Or girlfriend, but they _always _know. I never lie. I've always been honest. The trouble lies with when they find out, and how they take it. I try to tell people before we have sex for the first time, or before I notice any emotional attachment on either party."

"So Jeremy doesn't know yet?" asked Connor.

"Nope. Neither does Lauren. I was actually going to talk to her today, but you guys showed up."

"Sorry," said Murph meekly, opening a new beer.

"Oh, it's not a problem. I'll just tell her the next time I see her. She's starting to get really attached."

Since Murphy was next to me, Connor stretched himself across the couch. "You don't like her?"

"I like her." It almost sounded like a complaint. "I just think she likes me more than I like her."

"You ever been in love, then?" Murphy asked casually. "Somebody never got you to settle down?"

My eyes widened, bouncing back and forth between the two of them. "Wow, that's a question that I did not expect to be asked, by either one of you, tonight, while almost drunk."

Connor shrugged. "Just a question."

I took a large sip of my drink. "Me, in love?" What a story. With a nostalgic smile, I thought back to that complicated chapter of my life. "I _thought_ was in love," I said carefully.

The corners of Connor's lips tweaked, speaking into his drink again. "Boy? …Girl?"

"I called her my Amazonian Queen."

"Ohhh, you hear that Murph?" Excited for details, Connor shot up from his horizontal position. "An _Amazonian Queen."_

"She was my first serious relationship, and my first serious relationship with a female. But," – my drink made a harsh _clink_ as I set it down onto the table – "she fucking broke my heart."

"She polyamorous, too?" said Murph, skeptically.

"She and I were both open, but that wasn't what killed it."

"What did?"

Fucking Nadia. She was older than me, more experienced than me. She knew that I was young and impressionable, and to this day I believe she used that against me. "Nadia is one of those people who are fucked up, in the sense that they let you get attached, and don't bother letting you know that she's not on the same page. She…strings you along." I leaned forward, and reached for the vodka bottle. "I need another drink." But before I began to pour, I continued. "That's why I try to be honest. It took me months to recover from that, from loving someone so much, and realizing they didn't love you back. That sucks." I left the bottle on the table, forgotten, and sat back. "That's why I won't do that to Lauren."

The mood dropped a bit, grew temporarily darker, and I expected the boys to want to bail. They _did_ ask, didn't they? But instead, Connor's expression grew serious, as if lost in thoughts momentarily. And Murph said, "Aye, ye'd be an ass if ye just kept it a secret."

"Aye," Connor raised his drink. "Honesty's always the best policy."

I chuckled. "Like you earlier, with that _one o'clock_ bullshit?"

Murphy broke the sad mood with laughter, and Connor waved it off. "Psh, was just pickin' on ye." He motioned to his brother. "If we mess wit' ye, it means we like ye. Ye oughta consider it a compliment."

"Fine, I'll do that." I said, standing. "I'm going to go make some coffee. You guys want some?" It was time Vodka went to bed.

Connor placed his empty glass on the table. "Aye, I'm finished. I'll be shit fer work in the mornin'."

"Mind if I use yer restroom?" Murphy stood with me.

"Sure. Down the hall, First door on the right."

When I smashed two stools over a couple of thugs' heads, I didn't expect for this to be the result, Connor following me into the kitchen, and Murphy using my restroom. I'd just met these two last night. Well, technically, I'd only met Connor a few hours ago, for when he and I'd first made acquaintance, it was a shoulder bump and then he was passed out. I couldn't say that I was complaining, though. They were good company, and after the anxiety I dealt with all day concerning those two thugs, they definitely helped raise my spirits.

I cursed my giant of a house keeper, Dora, when I opened my pantry to see the coffee was on the very top shelf. I groaned, turning around to look at Connor. He was leaning against my kitchen sink, hands bracing the edge of the counter top, causing the top of his shirt, near the neckline, to tighten over his chest. I tried to hide my admiration from my face, not sure how inconspicuous my checking him out was, and asked him, "Could I borrow your height really quick?"

Judgmentally impaired (thanks again, Vodka), when he moved from his position by the countertop, I didn't step aside. I only turned back towards the pantry, looking up at the top shelf, waiting for my coffee to come down to me, to be with me forever. Connor stepped behind me, reaching to the top shelf, even needing to lift onto his toes. Accidentally, his back touched mine, his hips pressing into my butt, pinning me to the edge of the counter. My breath hitched at the sensation, warmth instinctively and unexpectedly igniting in my lower abdomen.

Driven by curiosity more than anything, I looked at him from over my shoulder, and I could tell by the expression on his face that he was caught off guard just as much as me, but neither of us particularly disliked it. Slowly, as if worried I would scatter at any sudden movements, he placed the canister of coffee down onto the countertop. Restless, I turned around, now facing him, our abdomens touching. Neither of us had put any space in between us yet, and I could feel his breath on my cheeks.

For a second we just looked at each other, wondering what would happen if we just remained here, and – I suppose he was just ready for something to happen – he took my face in his hands. His calloused fingers were rough against my cheeks, and I could taste the whiskey on his breath as he tilted his head down, and kissed me.

Even though I had watched him for the entirety of this interaction, for some reason I was still taken off guard by the kiss, but I didn't move away. I didn't want to. I returned his kiss, quite hesitantly at first, almost dazed at the contact, but a jolt went through my body, awakening me, as I felt his tongue run along my bottom lip. And then I was awake, I was alert. I tangled my fingers in his hair, and leaned into him.

The warmth in my body began to grow, and we both became quite greedy with the kiss, my hands snug in his hair, his migrating to my waist. We were quite comfortable for two people who only formally met a few hours ago. An unexpected moan escaped my lips, and then I heard the bathroom door open, and the _click_ of the light being switched off.

Murphy was walking out of the bathroom, and before I even saw him, I managed to pull from the kiss, quite reluctantly, and break the physical contact between Connor and me. His brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden escape, and he followed my eyes to the sight of Murphy making his way back into the living room, completely unaware of the situation at hand in the living room. Connor's eyes rolled in aggravation, but I could tell that there was a mutual understanding in the way he looked at me. The shock and unpleasantry of the separation waned, and he shot me a smirk.

"I hope Columbian is okay?" I called into the living room, returning back to reality, wearing my own smirk.


	2. Intrusion

_Author's Note: This one is busy one, guys. It'll take a hot minute. Lots going on, but I've got some goodies for you. ;) Expect some more sexy in the next update. Love in thre review box, please! It makes me happy!_

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><p><em>Intrusion<em>

I woke up with both of my cats curled up in my bed. I distinctly remember waking up several times throughout the night with them in the exact same position. "You both need jobs," I groaned, rolling out of bed.

I didn't remember telling the boys goodnight and heading off to bed, so that must have meant that my coffee did nothing. I was just as pissed after the brew as I had been before. _Starving _and with a pounding headache, I managed to make it the entire fifteen feet from my bed into the shower. Hot showers after a night of drinking are always wonderful. They just make you want to crawl back into bed because they're so relaxing, but they make you feel human again.

Wrapped in a towel, applying toothpaste to my toothbrush, there was a pleased smile on my face. "You idiot," I scolded, realizing I was giddy. "One night with two handsome men and a tongue down your throat and you're a mess." I emerged from the bathroom and pointed at my fat, lazy calico and my useless bobcat of a tabby. "You two aren't much better."

Clad in only a towel, I sauntered into the living room and rounded into the kitchen to pour a glass of orange juice for myself. Opening the fridge, my towel decided to unravel. Annoyed, I repositioned it and removed the juice from the fridge. Reaching into the cupboard, it came undone again. I lived alone for a reason. So, I just tore the towel off and onto the ground. "Fuck you, too," I spat to the towel.

"Well, 'at's not a very nice thing to say to a man jus' wakin' up, now, is it?" Murphy, who'd apparently been lying on the couch facing away from the bar, sat up, revealing himself to me.

With a gasp, I instinctively collapsed behind the counter. "Oh my God," I whispered. "That's just great."

"Avery?"

"What did you see?" I called from behind the counter, gathering the towel back up and rapidly wrapping it around myself.

"What are ye talkin' about?"

I rolled my eyes. _He really isn't trying to pretend like he just didn't see me naked, is he? _"Murphy, be honest,"

"I'm tellin ye, I just woke up. And I've got no idea what yer talkin' about."

Carefully, I stood, holding a death grip over the towel with one hand, and covering my butt with the other. "I didn't know you were still here." I revealed myself from behind the counter.

The confused expression he'd been wearing to match his tone relaxed, but then contorted into that of amusement.

My eyes shot around the apartment, looking for Connor, who was nowhere to be seen. "Where's your brother?"

Murphy stood and made his way into the kitchen, unaffected by my careful attempts at keeping my backside faced away from him. I slipped out of the kitchen toward the couch, grabbing the throw I kept sprawled over the back of the couch, and covered myself more securely. "He had work this mornin'. I passed out last night, and he certainly couldn't just leave me here, could he?"

I shook my head, not offended by their sleeping here last night. "I wouldn't expect you to."

"He carried you into yer room last night, and we crashed on the couch. This mornin' he woke me to tell me everythin." He smiled at me. "He told me that the coffee didn't do shit for ye."

I chuckled, more comfortable with the blanket wrapped around me. "Not a damn thing." Murphy poured himself a cold cup of coffee, and my stomach growled. I hadn't eaten dinner last night. That was probably why I got so drunk. Effectively, this left me hung over and starving. "Are you hungry?"

He chugged the cold coffee and shrugged. "I could eat."

* * *

><p>There was a diner a few blocks away from my work I frequented. I loved the diner atmosphere, but ever since going vegan, eating out was virtually impossible. This place made any changes to the menu you wanted, and you could mix and match to your heart's content, which was pivotal to a vegan's eating out experience.<p>

"Don't worry," I assured Murphy as we were sat with two menus. "I'm not going to give you the _Meat is Murder_ spiel."

"Good, 'cause it wouldn't of done ye any good."

The diner was rather empty for a Sunday morning. Typically the church crowd over ran the place, but I enjoyed the quiet. "I found this place about a year ago." I unraveled my paper napkin and placed it in my lap. "A coworker brought me here."

"Ye don't cross me as the diner type," he replied, lacing his fingers, resting his elbows on the table, and leaning in.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Who doesn't like diners? People without souls?

He shrugged. "The area ye live in. Yer apartment. The way ye dress."

Immediately self conscious and worried, I looked down at myself, reconsidering my attire. I'd just worn a sweater, some jeans, and a pair of boots. It was pretty basic.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "Talkin' about back at the bar. Not every day do ye see a girl in heels bashing a man o'er the head with a bar stool."

"Those were work clothes!"

"What're ye, a lawyer?"

I narrowed my eyes. "No, I work for a Woman's fashion magazine, so looking nice is part of the job. Or at least for the one I work for." I took a minute to think about what he'd said. "_And what's wrong with my apartment?" _

He just laughed at me. I let it go, because I thought his laugh was cute.

A young and rather pretty waitress approached our table, with a professional smile and a ready notepad. "Hey, how are you guys doing this morning?" She seemed quite likeable, but once she saw Murphy, I did not exist.

"Good, and you?" he replied smiling.

_Stop that._ _You're my attractive friend. Stop flattering other girls._

"What can I get you to drink?"

"Coffee."

"Water," I said, attempting to reclaim my existence.

I got nothing.

Murphy pointed at me. "She'll take a water and…?" He waited for me to fill in the blanks.

"I'll take a hot tea. Earl Grey, please?"

"Earl Grey, please."

It was then when she finally looked at me, so she could make her little joke. "We've got Irish Breakfast tea." _Vomit._

"No, I think I got enough Irish in me last night," I joke, referring to the amount of drinking we'd done, and the stereotype that the Irish are heavy drinkers. It was when Murphy laughed that I realized what I'd just said. The waitress's eyes widened and she was quick to leave the table. "That came out wrong," I muttered, palming my forehead, and then called after the waitress defensively, "That's not what I meant!"

Murphy just laughed.

"Oh shut up," I spat. "I bet you're real pleased with that."

"I happen to be very pleased with the Irish in me."

I crumbled up my napkin and threw it at him.

I wasn't surprised when Murphy ordered the meat platter, and I ordered a bowl of soup with a cucumber salad. When we got our food and I began to dress my salad, Murphy looked at me as if I were sacrificing a sheep straight on the table.

"Would ye like a little salad to go with that there dressin'?"

"Hush, I like Italian."

He was too quick. "Apparently not the Irish, though, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "The more time I spend with you, yes."

Shoving lettuce and cucumber (_doused_ in dressing, apparently) into my mouth, I watched him very carefully separate all of his food. Sausage into one pile, bacon into another, ham steak in another, hash browns down by the side, egg in the middle, and toast set off onto a napkin.

"I guess you don't like your food touching, huh?"

"Can't stand it. Connor piles all his food up into a pile, and just devours it. It's disgustin'."

"I guess you lightly dress your salads, too."

My eyes wandered and I caught site of the magazine rack beside the bathroom entrance, and noticed the familiar hot pink logo of the magazine I worked for. Without word, I got up, walked over, and grabbed it. Back at the table, I plopped it in front of Murphy who looked at it quizzically.

"It's the magazine I work for. The owner started ordering it when he learned I was a regular. His daughter reads them."

Picking it up, there was a tall, thin woman on front, dressed in a sleek, black jump suit. It was our edition on fashionable exercise wear. Knowing full well that he was a man and had no interest in a woman's magazine, I took it from his fingers, and opened up to my column, placing it down in front of him.

His interest peaked, he dropped his fork, finishing the mouth full of food, and scanned the two-pages of my column. Wiping his hands with a napkin, he pointed to the top of the page. "That's a good picture of ye."

The same as every woman who ever lived, my immediate response was, "That's an awful picture of me." In order to be considered a woman, scientifically, you can only have four good pictures out of two thousand.

He sounded offended. "This is a good picture." His finger grazed over the image of my hair. "Ye look nice with ye hair down." Then he motioned to my hair across the table. "Ye should wear it down."

A goofy smile crept over my face. Flattery is the best way into the heart of a narcissist, which I happened to be.

His attention left my photograph, and over the column. "A relationship advice column?"

"Yep. I started off in the health section, but my boss moved me here after he found out about my dating lifestyle."

He honestly seemed impressed, and began reading over certain questions and my answers. _"_You told a woman to '_forget the home security system and just buy a bat?'_"

"Security systems are expensive." I sipped at my Earl Grey. "She couldn't afford it, and guns are complicated. Bats - not so much."

"I wouldn't necessarily call 'em _complicated._"

"My Dad's a cop. A lot of guys learn firearm management as a right to manhood, while women are stuck in the kitchen learning how to bake. If it was as common to teach your daughter how to use a firearm as it is for young men, we wouldn't need alarm systems."

He cocked a brow. "That so?"

"I was at a gun rage at age 13. I grew up in New York City. I was taught to defend myself. Most women are just told to use their keys to stab an eye out, but I think that's bullshit."

He didn't respond right away, chewing over my words as well as his food, and finally said in a suspicious tone, "Yer a feminist aren't ye?"

I don't know why I thought it was so funny, but I laughed out loud, demanding a curious stare from our waitress from across the diner. "No," as my laugh died down. "I'm not a feminist. Are you?" I slid my empty salad bowl aside.

"Fuck yeah, I am." Intense.

"Well, then."

"Our Da skipped out on our Ma when we were little, and she raised us all by herself, with a little help from relatives, all of which were women."

Pleased, I grinned at his words. I never would have guessed Connor and Murphy to be feminists, but I could sort of tell that they respected women; mostly by the way they weren't complete douche bags or over sexualized my attraction to girls.

"Our Ma raised us to respect women."

"Like Connor putting me to bed last night?"

"Ye woulda passed out on the couch, and we just couldn't have that." He smiled, sliding his plate to the side. "Connor surely woulda been on the floor."

"I have a guest room, by the way. You could have just taken that."

The waitress approached our table.

"I'll remember 'at the next time."

"How was everything?" beamed the waitress, not even acknowledging my existence. Couldn't blame her. He's hot.

"Wonderful," I replied, forcing her to look at me. "Can we have the check, please?"

"Same or separate?"

"Same," we said in unison.

The waitress walked away to print the check as I said, "My treat."

Narrowing his eyes, he merely shook his head. He was fast, when the waitress returned, snatching the slip of paper off the table before I could even move.

"Come on!" It came out in a whine. "It's the least I can do after last night. You guys brought me beer, and tolerated my drunken ramblings about my shitty love life."

He pulled out his wallet, placed cash on the table, and stood. "Connor and I drank the beer. And ye said yerself ye don't drink it, and ye weren't babblin', nor was it of a shitty love life."

I followed him out of the diner. "Yeah, but you guys did put me to bed. You didn't have to do that."

He threw a smirk over his shoulder. "If only ye were naked, then, too."

Now on the sidewalk in the crisp air, I stopped in my tracks. With a mixture of seriousness and amusement, I asked, "Murph I need you to tell me the truth."

"Yeah?"

Keeping my tone steady, with a collected mindset, I said carefully, "Did you see me naked this morning?"

The smirk said it all. "Right before ye ducked down behind the counter."

With a groan, I threw my head back. "Of course you did."

"Hey, I didn't say it was a bad thing."

"What?"

He didn't say anything. He only turned on his heels and walked away.

* * *

><p>It was crowded at McGinty's Monday night, so I wasn't really concerned about mobsters coming in and stirring up a fuss. The customers were rowdy, and they were happily drunk. It was a sea of cheerfulness and alcohol produced jubilance. I was the sore thumb, stomping through the door and directly to the bar.<p>

Murphy caught sight of me, and slid a seat over, offering the stool between himself and Connor to me. I took the seat without a smile or a greeting, surely a scowl plastered upon my face.

"Jack and Coke?" asked Abbey, which was the usual for me.

I shook my head. "Nope, I'm going straight for the vodka tonight."

Murphy's eyes already having been on me due to my refusal at the typical pleasantries, Connor turned from his conversation in concern, detecting that something was clearly wrong.

I handed my credit card to Abbey. "Just keep this. It's gonna be a while." Abbey detected an issue as well, but was wise enough to know when to just let something go, and allow a customer to steam. Murphy and Connor weren't on that same page.

"Everythin' alright, Avery?" inquired Murphy.

Not answering straight away, I threw the shot of vodka back. "Nope," I sighed.

"Bad day at the office?" Connor said it in a teasing tone, but he quickly caught on that I wasn't laughing. "Seriously, what's up?"

This had just turned out to be a bit of a shitty day. Work in general was just aggravating, with a deadline moving up four days, and then I had an amazingly _awful_ conversation with my father. And finally, there was Lauren. What a gem. "Talked with Lauren," I said in almost a sigh, sliding my shot glass to the edge of the bar, waving at Abbey. "Go ahead and just bring me two more and a glass of Sprite, please."

As Abbey poured my shots and drink, Murphy and Connor threw a bemused look at one another. Murphy, apparently brave enough to dive into this black hole, asked, "Guessin' it didn't go too well?"

I scoffed. "Oh, what an understatement of the fucking century." Second shot.

There was a pause before Connor mustered up, "You wanna talk about it?"

Did I want to talk about it? I hadn't said anything to anyone all day about the conversation Lauren and I had had that morning. Slowly, I placed down my shot glass by the first, and began unbuttoning my blouse. Their eyes widened at the very action, but I ignored it. It wasn't like I was going to just strip in the middle of the bar. Calm down, guys.

After undoing the first four or five buttons, I pulled the collar apart wide enough for them to see the gash just below my collar bone.

"_Jesus!"_ exclaimed Connor.

Murphy leaned in, being completely respectful in not paying attention to the bit of exposed cleavage, to inspect the wound. "What is that?"

"Lauren."

"What'd she do, try to fuckin' kill ye?" said Connor, incredulously. "Go on, then, spill it!"

"I had the talk with her," I said, grabbing the third shot.

"Well, I coulda guessed 'at. How'd you get _that?_" He pointed to the cut.

Murphy insisted we move to a booth, to provide us with a little bit more privacy, so that I could speak freely. I like to pride myself in my privacy, hence why I lived alone. I enjoyed being able to walk naked around my apartment and do whatever I want, without hesitation. I was particular about what I said at work, and I was careful when first meeting someone. Connor and Murphy, who'd I befriended fairly quickly, really were just special cases.

But I was three shots in and I was having a shitty day, leaving me unfiltered and my desire to censor myself almost nonexistent.

My head fell into my hands. "It was awful." So _fucking_ awful. And then it all came out in a jumble after that. "I was giving her head, and she was enjoying herself, I guess." Connor and Murph were caught off guard by the detail. "And we were in the bedroom, and then fucking Jeremy calls."

"That lad who called the other night?" Murph said before taking a sip at his beer.

I nodded my head. "He was calling to cancel, and when Lauren realized that I'd had a date with someone else, she went fucking nuts."

Connor leaned in. "How long you been seein' this girl anyway?"

"The night I saw her at the bar was the second time we got together. We'd met at a party, and it was really only supposed to be a onetime thing."

"So today was yer third meetin'?"

"_Meetin'?"_ Murphy teased his brother's words.

"Oh, shut up."

I smiled at the little exchange. They were bringing my spirits up. I'd noticed they had a habit of that. "Yeah, today was the third. But then that fucking answering machine went off."

"So when did she throw the glass at ye?"

I lifted my hands from my head and leaned back into the booth, accidentally brushing shoulders with Murphy. He didn't move, and neither did I. Honestly, I enjoyed the human touch. It was comforting. I could hear the disbelief in my own voice, and I had actually been there and witnessed the ordeal. "We just started arguing and it just escalated from there. And she threw a vase at me."

Connor shot back in his seat. "_A fuckin' vase?" _

"Well, maybe not at me," I said, bending down to pull my heels off (_fucking death traps)_ and returning to my close proximity to Murphy. "She threw it at the wall beside me, _but_ barely missed me. And when the glass shattered…" I motioned to my exposed cut. Then, I realized my shirt was still open and began clamoring with the buttons. "Jesus, I guess I should put my fucking clothes back on."

Murphy readjusted in his seat, careful not to move too far away from me. _Squee._ "She threw a vase at ye?" It seemed he couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Not at me," I corrected.

But he waved me off and pointed to the gash underneath my shirt. "That says otherwise." He looked at his brother and said, "What a bitch."

"Whoa, whoa!" I said, surprised by the name calling. "What happened to the feminism spiel yesterday?"

"That only goes fer women who aren't psycho and throwin' dangerous items at our friends."

Connor gestured towards his brother. "What he said."

"I'm guessin' you dumped her, then?"

"I mean, we weren't really together in order for her to be dumped."

"She apparently thought differently."

"Well, to answer your question: no, I won't be seeing her anymore. She's," I rolled the word around in my head before saying it, "psycho, as you said." And ain't nobody got time for psycho.

"Well it's settled then!" announced Connor joyfully, waving at Abbey. "Let's get you properly drunk, then."

I held my hands up in defense, glancing warily at both the men. "No, no, no!"

Murph nudged me in the shoulder. "Come on, ye need ferget about today."

"Boys, as much as I love the attempts at making me feel better, I do have work in the morning." I stacked my three shot glasses. "And I've pushed my luck enough as it is."

"Come on," nudged Connor. "Then just let us order ye a beer?"

I groaned, screwing my face up. "I hate beer." What a whine.

Murphy laughed as Connor continued to insist. "Well, Doc's got a great hard apple cider that you might like, then. It'll be perfect for yer girly tastes."

My eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure if that's an insult or not."

"Connor, just order her the cider."

Connor attempted to wave the waitress over, but it was obvious how swamped she was. Busied by a table of demanding men, we could see the anxiety building, her noticeably struggling to run back and forth between tables. Finally, she was able to make her way to our table, with a look of sincerity. "I'm so sorry, guys!"

"It's fine," I assured her. "I was a waitress in college. I know your pain."

Abbey bent down in front of the table, her eyes bouncing between the three of us. "I know that this is totally random, but I'm dying out there. Doc is about to call some people in to help out with the rush, but we're totally out of two different beers behind the bar. Doc says you guys are like family and wouldn't mind grabbing a case from the beer cooler?"

Feeling compassionate for the poor girl, I felt myself stand before Connor or Murphy could answer. I'd been in her situation before, swamped with not enough staff to handle the customers, and from the experience of needing that kind of help, I was more than eager to give it. "I'll go grab it for you." Just grab two cases of beer, and be done with it.

"It's alright, we got it," tried Connor.

But I was already up and making my way for the cooler. "It's cool. I got it!"

The concrete flooring of the beer cooler was miraculous on my aching feet. I needed to look into some more comfortable shoes, or at least some inserts for those death spikes. I was beginning to realize that I was peeling them off more than actually wearing them. What's the point of dropping good money on something you're not even properly using?

The chilliness of the cooler was refreshing on my body altogether. As fall approached, Doc had been pumping up the heater of the bar, and combined hoards of warm bodies, that sucked for my being warm natured. So for a second, I just enjoyed the temperature and the silence the thick, insulated walls provided, placing my forehead on one of the silver shelves. What a shitty day. And Lauren _throwing_ something at me, something of mine, in my own apartment? What was that? I'd had people who handled the open relationship thing badly, but she and I hadn't even been properly dating. As far as I was concerned, she overreacted.

As I scanned the shelving unit for the crate of beer, it'd just occurred to me that I hadn't even taken the time to find out what kind I needed to grab. It was then that the door opened behind me. Murphy let in a gust of warm air, but I didn't pay it any mind as he closed the door behind him, stepping into the cooler with me.

There wasn't very sufficient lighting in the cooler, only the light from the hallway outside, casting through the frosty window of the bulky, metal door. But I could see a slightly different expression on Murphy's face that I hadn't seen before. Serious, intentional. He didn't say anything, didn't smile, or make a joke about how I'd just ran off without the right information.

He took a minute to read my body language, and once he decided it was okay, he closed the space between us, his boots thudding on the concrete flooring, his hands snaked over my waist. I could feel shelves press into my back as he leaned into me. One of his hands migrated from my waist to my cheek, tilting my head up, and he kissed me. It was an interesting sensation, the contrast of his bodily warmth all over me standing in the cooler. It was nice. I braced myself, holding onto his back, and reveled in the taste of cigarettes and mint.

My heart sped up and my skin tingled as his lips moved over mine. He kissed differently than his brother, which isn't surprising, but it was the difference between the kisses that interested me. Connor's, who is louder and more outgoing, was hungrier and slightly more primal. Murphy's, a bit quieter, more calculated, and slightly more particular with his responses, were careful, but by no means gentle or delicate. His lips moved deliberately against mine, almost possessively, but he was very controlled.

As the kiss deepened, when he was confident in my acceptance, his hand on my waist slid farther down, and firmly gripped my butt, lifting me upward, closer to him. My ears drowned in the sounds of our skin moving against each other, the clinking of the bottles as we adjusted, and our heavy breaths. Beginning to feel a little light headed at the blood rush, I pulled away from his lips, but not breaking the embrace.

I felt a wave of euphoria slither up my body, from my toes to my head, causing the hair on the back of my neck to tingle. Murphy's breath was warm against my neck as he tried to collect himself, and I could feel a tightness in his jeans against my hips. After a shitty day, this was a complete pick-me-up.

"That was a pleasant surprise," I whispered against his neck.

He lifted his head, revealing the smirk on his lips. "Shoulda done 'at yesterday. Been beatin' meself up ever since."

I mirrored his smirk. "Can't be living with regrets now, can we?"

He gave a soft chuckle and sadly (oh, so sadly) took a step back, severing our shared warmth and I was invaded by cold air. _Thank you Jesus for padded bras._ "I guess we should actually bring back the beer, huh?"

"I think that would be best," I said teasingly. I watched him stack one case on top of another, and hoist it off of the shelf and aim for the door. "I can grab one of those if you want?"

He shook his head. "No, can't be havin' a lady doin' the heavy liftin' when I'm perfectly capable." We stepped out of the cooler and he looked at me curiously. "Is _lady_ a'right?"

Flattered that he remembered my little quirk, I grinned from ear to ear. "Of course, that's fine."

We started walking again towards the bar area. "I could call ye ma'am if ye want?" mischief in his tone.

"No, I think I'd like too much."

"Oh, is that so?"

Connor must have been getting drunk, because he didn't seem to notice anything between me and his brother. Yes, it occurred to me that I'd just kissed both of these men within a twenty-four hour period, but it's not I was dating either one of them, and they instigated the interactions. And they were just kisses. There weren't any rings involved.

As we sat down to join Connor, and a newly arrived Rocco, Murph made sure to sit next to me, despite the empty space beside his brother, as Rocco had pulled a chair up to the end of the table.

I had a fragrant hard apple cider waiting on me with Connor's promise behind its worth. The boys all watched, gauging my reaction as I took the first sip, and all erupted into cheers as I gave my nod of approval, almost embarrassed at the attention. "It's good, I like it."

"Good!" applauded Connor. "After 'at, we'll start workin' yep up to the good stuff."

"How do you not like beer?" asked Rocco incredulously. "You can take shots of vodka but not a light beer?"

"How do you _like_ beer?" I countered. "It tastes like piss and sweat."

"How do ye know what piss and sweat tastes like and 'at's only the shitty beer."

Murphy nudged me softly. "Don't worry. We'll show ye the beers worth drinkin' and steer ye away from the shitty ones." He eyed his friends playfully. "The ones 'at taste like piss an' sweat, 'at is."

The boys managed to convince me to let them buy me a second, slightly different cider. And when I stood to leave, Connor insisted he pay for my drinks for the night. Murphy told me it was useless to deny his brother, and walked me outside.

In the crowd of the bar, my arousal had dulled slightly. But the crispness of the air outside reminded me of our antics in the beer cooler as I watched him attempt to hail me a cab. As a cab slowed and came to a halt beside us at the curb, I saddened at the idea of leaving his side, wanting so badly to reawaken the connection.

"How completely terrible would I look if I invited you over?" Blunt.

Smirk. "Not at all."

* * *

><p>It took all the decency I was raised with not to jump him in the back of the cab, but it didn't stop hands from roaming right under the hem of my skirt, or the passionate kiss and bites he trailed down the sensitive tendons of my neck. I was covered in chills at the light sensations, almost inconspicuous in the back of the dark cab.<p>

The concierge gave me the normal, cordial pleasantries at the front desk, and we'd deliberately chosen an empty elevator, taking the extra moment to wait for a second one to come down when only an old lady occupied the first.

There were security cameras in the elevators, but I don't think Murphy cared and I sure as hell didn't. As desperate I was for his hands all over me, he hadn't gotten the opportunity to do much because the elevator ride was too short, or perhaps it was my fucked up perception of time. But the door to my apartment didn't cause us much trouble. It was closed behind us quickly, and I was pinned against the wall of the entryway.

His chest was firm against mine and his hands were eager, hiking my skirt up and caressing the flesh of my thighs. I was completely immobilized, his lips roaming my neck, his other free hand fondling my breast, and his legs positioned in between mine. It's not like I had intentions on going anywhere, anyway.

My brain was completely useless and I was totally unaware of my surroundings. It was heaven to be pinned underneath him, ravaged by his lips and hands, and the hardness of his pants pressing into me only turned me on even more.

Fingers of one hand tangled in his hair, and the others invaded the underneath of his shirt, discovering the indentions and curves of his back. He shivered as I trailed along the bottom of his spine. I smiled against his lips, pleased with myself.

I assumed we would migrate to the bedroom, but it was obvious he had none of those intentions as his fingers found the elastic of my underwear, hooked, and sent them falling at my ankles. My core pulsated, excited that now since I was ridden of that important little shred of fabric, maybe I'd get some direct attention soon. He had the same thing on his mind as he pulled away from me, resting his forehead on mind to gauge my reaction, and slowly worked his way up my inner thighs. My hands retreated from their places and formed a death grip on the collar of his shirt as the anticipation overwhelmed me.

Then, the damn phone rang.

"Ignore it," I pleaded. "Please just keep going."

He took his sweet time, teasing, beating his way around the important area. My clitoris was throbbing, and somebody wasn't helping. "Murph, can we please just cut to the chase, here?" I mumbled against his lips.

And he was about to comply. He'd moved to touch me, possibly finger me, and give me an amazing orgasm that I know that I really, really fucking needed. But the final ring to the phone sounded, and the answering machine went off.

"_Avery, it's Lauren… I know we got in a fight today, but I need your help. Something… Something just happened."_

I was pulled out of my sexual euphoria with my attractive Irishman, and detected the fear in Lauren's voice. I was hasty in breaking the embrace between Murphy and ran to the phone, trying to catch her before she hung up.

"Lauren!" I almost yelled into the phone. "What happened?"

At the sound of her voice, distinct with the roughness of having been crying, all my anger towards her immediately vanished. "I just got home from my shift at work, and my apartment's a mess. Someone broke in. I didn't want to call the pol- Avery I don't know what to do. Is it- Could it be those guys from the bar? The thugs?"

My arousal was left forgotten, and the anxiety I'd experienced at the bar hit me like a train, dirty dancing with a dose of fear. I couldn't help but picture Lauren's apartment in shambles, her stabbed or shot in the middle of it, all because of one stupid moment from me. Despite the thoughts rushing through my mind, I was able to tell myself that I had no details and that I was jumping to conclusions. It wasn't the time to panic.

"Will you come over?" she pleaded.

"Of course. I'm leaving right now." I didn't even bother saying goodbye as I jogged to my underwear at Murphy's feet and gathered up my purse. "Somebody broke into Lauren's apartment, and it might have been those assholes at the bar." I knew that Murphy was probably taken by surprise at the news, and at my running for the door, but as far as I was concerned, I didn't have any time to explain. In the doorway, realizing he wasn't at my heels, I was firm. "Are you coming? Because I'll go alone if I have to."

It only took him a second to register what was going on. He gathered himself mentally, straightened his clothes, and followed me out of the apartment, to the elevator.

* * *

><p>Murphy called Connor at the concierge desk of my building, deciding it may be best to have some backup. We arrived at Lauren's apartment complex right as Connor and Rocco did. Upstairs, her apartment was a mess. It had been completely destroyed. Couch pillows ripped apart, mirrors shattered, dishware broken in the bottom of the sink.<p>

Lauren was a mess. She was scared shitless, and I had confirmation looking at her that she'd been crying, her makeup running, and black streaking her cheeks.

Now, Connor stood next to Lauren's flipped couch, leaning against the wall his hands in his pockets. Lauren sat on the edge of her coffee table, a tissue in her hands. I kneeled at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder, peering up at her. Murph stood not too far behind me.

"I didn't know if I should call the police," she wailed. "Because you insisted we shouldn't the other night and if it was these guys – Ugh, I'm just so fucking confused. Why did they break into my apartment? I didn't even do anything!" I felt like a piece of shit. If it was those thugs, then that made this entire thing my fault. If only I'd minded my own business.

"It's okay, it's okay," I soothed, taking a seat beside her on the table. "You did the right thing calling me. These situations get confusing sometimes."

"What should we do?"

My eyes shot over the tornado of the apartment, kitchen table broken in half, television smashed, picture frames thrown onto the ground, school papers strewn on the floor. Hell, they'd even ripped the blades off the ceiling fan. This wasn't a robbery. This was straight up vandalism.

"It wasn't them," announced Connor confidently from behind us.

I looked over my shoulder, "What makes you say that?"

But Rocco emerged from the hallway, grabbing our attention. "I checked all the closets, bathrooms, cabinets, and all of that shit, and there ain't _nobody_ here." Rocco had been reluctant to check, absolutely insisting that no one could possibly be here.

Murphy crossed his arms with a sigh. "We're tellin' ye Avery, it wasn't them."

I felt anger swell, looking between the three of them. "How can you all be so sure?" Jesus, did they know something I didn't?

Connor moved from his position on the wall, and he sauntered towards the door of her apartment. "Let's talk for a minute, Avery."

Lauren looked at me with fearful eyes, and I honestly didn't want to leave her alone. "Rocco, will you stay with her while I talk with Murph and Connor outside."

He seemed a little uncomfortable, but agreed.

Outside the apartment, Connor addressed me in a hushed voice. "I know yer freaked out from what happened the other night, Avery, but ye've gotta trust us on this. It wasn't those thugs."

What the fuck was this? As soon as we'd arrived at her apartment, Connor and Murphy had automatically ruled the thugs out. There was _no_ way it could be them. There was no possible way those thugs could have realized who we were, tracked one of us home, and completely obliterated our apartment while we were gone. Why was that so impossible to them? How easy had it been for Connor and Murphy to find out where I lived? Wouldn't it be just as easy to find Lauren? I knew from context clues of conversation that she had a tab at McGinty's, being a regular, too.

It just enraged me. They'd been so nice the night they came over and had even been helpful today in attempts to cheer me up. They'd returned my coat to me as well as my very important credit card. I didn't know these two well enough to say that their indifference was out of character, but I didn't like it.

I didn't bother whispering. "This is a joke, right?" My arms were folded defensively as I bounced back between the two of them. "Her apartment is in _shambles_, and she's not much better."

"Ye think this is the mob, he tried confidently. "But it isn't."

I was so aggravated, I wanted to scream. "Ugh, why are you so fucking sure?"

Murphy's voice was soft, soothing almost. "Avery, please, trust us."

I took a deep breath, trying to collect myself. Lauren and I both couldn't be a mess during all of this. I needed to remain calm. "Well, what do you expect us to do?"

Murphy was quick. "Call the police."

I wasn't stupid. A retired cop's daughter, I knew that you had to be really particular when dealing with the mob. The scared side of me told me to leave the cops out of this, in fear of being labeled a rat. The logical side of me, the cop's daughter in me, told me to call my father and then the Boston police department. "I don't want her to get in trouble, guys."

"Aye." I felt Connor's fingertip underneath my chin, urging me to look up. "She won't be in trouble."

"Why are you so sure?" I felt like a broken record.

"Jus' are, Ave," added Murphy. "Tell her to report this to the police. It's not mob related. We promise."

I felt like was jumping off of an airplane without a parachute, being told to just expect a nice soft pillow at my eventual destination. I don't like to refer to myself as a control freak, but I do like having a firm grip on any situation I'm in. I like to know what's happening, when, and what dangers it may involve. I was absolutely not in control, and I hated it. I didn't know who did this. I felt like I couldn't get answers from Murphy and Connor, who were obviously leaving out an important detail. And Lauren was a freaking wreck, and I didn't know how to console her.

I knew when I'd handed the phone to Lauren to call the police that I would be taking the day off of work tomorrow. I promised her I'd stay with her to fill out the police report and answer any questions. After the police was called, I called my father, who agreed with Connor and Murphy that it may be unlikely that this was a mob related situation. "_It's just not their style, Cupcake,"_ he'd said. As unsure of his words as I was, it was nice to have his reassurance. I am a Daddy's Girl, after all.

Connor and Murphy waited downstairs, not really caring to be a part of the questioning process. Rocco just bailed and went home, with a few kind words to Lauren. And it was midnight before all of the police were gone. Lauren was told to go stay with her Mother until they could get her apartment back in living condition and for the renter's insurance to kick in.

It was almost one o'clock by the time we were in the lobby of my apartment building, Connor and Murphy standing in front of me with earnest expressions. "Are ye sure ye don't want us to come up and check out the apartment?" Murphy asked for the fourth time.

"Guys, I'm tired. I'm sure it's fine." I was just ready to get to bed. This day had been shit and my body was just ready to collapse.

I could sense the irritation in Connor as he stomped over to the concierge desk, scribbled on a piece of paper, and then walked back over to me, shoving it into my hands. "Ye'll call us, if ye need us, right?"

"You guys are sweet," I smiled. "But I'll be fine." Still, I took the piece of paper from Connor. I assumed it would be useful information for the future. Lifting up on my toes, I placed a kiss on both their cheeks."I'll see you later."

The boys didn't begin to walk away until I was stepping onto the elevator. As the doors closed in front of me, I was granted the first moment of peace for the day, silence overtaking me. I felt a weight lift as my eyes fell closed and I let out a long, controlled breath. What a terrible, terrible day. The argument with Lauren, a stressful talk with Daddy at work today, then at the apartment, the deadline at work being moved up, the gash on my neck, the unfinished business between Murphy and me, Lauren's apartment, and the secrets being kept by Connor and Murphy.

Not to mention, it finally occurred to me, now having the opportunity to properly think, that I've kissed both Connor and Murphy. I'd more than kissed Murphy. In fact, I almost slept with him tonight. I could tell by the way Connor and Murphy interacted with one another that they were close. Would they tell each other about their attraction to me? Would they be angry to know that they'd both made moves? I couldn't help but assume that, even though Connor's kiss was really hot, it was after a few drinks, right? Not that we didn't know what we were doing. We certainly did.

But I'd spent more time with Murphy. We'd had lunch, the moment in the cooler, and the almost-sex in my foyer. To be completely honest, it was just physical. I liked the boys, don't get me wrong. They were lovely to be around, and they certainly put a smile on my face, but I'd only known them for three days, now, and I wasn't going to assume one of them was in love with me. This was just a bunch of flowing physical attraction.

I was also very used to multiple partners. It didn't affect me to kiss one boy and turn around and kiss another. This was normal for me. But they were brothers. Hopefully, they would communicate to one another, and with time, the details would become clear, putting everyone on the same page. Whatever the case may be, it was almost one o'clock in the morning, and I was beat.

The elevator dinged as it reached my floor. The keys slid into the door without a problem, and one of my cats rubbed about my leg as I entered. I shed off my shoes for the final time that night, peeling off my jacket, and dropped my purse on the floor. My bed was soft and welcoming underneath my aching body. I knew I needed to take off my makeup, but I was just done. So, so done.

I heard a meow from the foot of the bed. Sitting up, I saw Libby staring up at me expectantly. Those poor babies. They hadn't been fed yet. "I'm sorry Libs," I said, picking myself up off the bed. "Momma got home late. I'll feed you, now." She was ridden with excitement as she trotted with me to the kitchen. But something was missing. Something was wrong.

Filling up both bowls, with only one kitty chowing down, I stood up, confused. "Kirk?" I called into my dark, empty apartment. "Baby boy?" Kirk was my hungry one. He never missed a meal. I turned on the kitchen light, casting a soft glow among the rest of the apartment. Kirk came running in from the balcony, meowing cheers of dinner time, and came to my feet. As happy as I was to have both of my furry babies accounted for, I was totally distracted by the disturbing details before me.

He came running in from the balcony. The door was open. I hadn't used the balcony today.

Someone had been in my home.


End file.
